


Temporary Regression

by Sys



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: I don't know either. Basically if someone mentions deaging as a like my brain does scary things. Also... pretty light on the Chakotay/B'Elanna side for this one. They're too busy. But they definitely are an item.





	Temporary Regression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vexed_Wench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexed_Wench/gifts).



> Hi! If you received this story and don't like it, please just let me know. (Something along the lines of "No thanks" will do nicely. I'll be happy to remove it, so it's not associated with you any longer.) I hope you're having a fantastic New Year and that you and yours are safe, happy and healthy and remain thus.

“They are driving me insane.” 

She glares at him as if it was his fault. And he swallows all the frustration that’s welling up again because they start crying every time they hear fights. After only ten hours he shouldn’t have made that observation yet. But the sheer amount of babies and toddlers they’ve returned to is maddening. Everyone. From Captain to Ensign. Except for the Doctor. And Naomi. Maquis and Starfleet united in this mess. Indiscriminately. Any species. Any sex. None of that seems to have mattered. And they haven’t had time to as much as check the log entries yet to see if there are any pointers on how it happened. Let alone on how to reverse it.

“We did talk about having children.”

Not a good one. She doesn’t need to open her mouth to tell him. A single look’s enough.

The possibility of one, perhaps two children at some point isn’t the same as having a crew depending on them for basically everything. 

“You can change the diapers and the doctor can feed them. If I don’t get back to fixing the warp core we’re going to remain stuck here.”

Arguably, that is the best division of workforce. Or at least B’Elanna working on the warp core is their best option. But something about her tone bothers her. And he’d like to take her arm. Remind her that actually he’s still in charge as far as their work life’s concerned. That none of this mess is actually on him. Only that she stalks off before he can say anything. And there’s wailing again because Seven’s stolen Tom’s toys. Or vice versa? And he just can’t keep track of who’s had what with the sheer amount of toddlers. And worse... the thirty-something babies. Actually, maybe those are harmless in comparison. Because at least they don’t start fighting.

“I think my mom needs a fresh diaper.” 

He looks at Naomi who regards him earnestly, looking understandably distressed by the developments.

“I’ll see to that. Can you break up Seven and Tom, please?”

“Okay.”

As he picks up Samatha he half wishes he had the time to eavesdrop on a very serious sounding discussion between Tuvok and Kathryn. About the benefit of fresh fruits over replicated one. But everyone who is quiet, doesn’t seem to have any obvious needs and doesn’t pose any risk to themselves or others is best ignored until further notice. They really need to get a better schedule on who needs what and when though. If they want to have _any_ hope of sleeping ever again.

But it’s probably for the best that they’re too busy to consider the implications of diapering and bathing fellow crewmates. That might come later. When they’ve managed to return to some sense of normality. Whatever that means on this particular ship. 

Ten fresh diapers later, he hands another baby (Harry, this time) to the Doctor to be fed. Pushes aside the dread that they may be trapped in this situation for more than a week or two. One person running all the tech checkups while the other three are busy trying to keep the crew alive... far from ideal. 

“BIT ME!”

The wail is loud and he can’t believe that his first thought is that B’Elanna’s not even in the room. But this obviously isn’t about those sort of bites. And a honeymoon’s definitely an excuse for any Klingon -or half-Klingon- to bestow a few love bites.

“Okay, quit it!”

There’s wailing all around him. But he’s too far away to be with them immediately. And the two are at it again. Or rather... were... until he raised his voice at them to a point that shocked even them. 

“Tom, Seven, one more stunt like that and I’m putting you in the brig.”

“Commander...”

He glares at the Doctor only to realize that it’s actually Naomi who addressed him, looking utterly terrified. Forcing his frustration down he wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to meditate again.

“I’m sorry. What is it, Naomi?”

“Maybe we should play games with them?”

“If you can think of any... please do.”

He’s eternally grateful when the Doctor sets aside Harry to pick up Tom and check on the bite while Naomi picks up Seven and whispers to her. Maybe the whole nightmare is something he can survive if he can rely on the three people who have not deaged to the age of three or below?

But there are more diapers to change. And more babies and toddlers to feed. And really, is anyone keeping track of who’ll need what next? Part of him feels unappreciative, given that the Doctor has taken it upon himself to replicate all needed materials before they even came back to the ship. Wasting essential resources, perhaps. But there’s just no hope that they can keep a bunch of children fed and diapered without the replicator’s help. The little outfits alone... - all of them aimed to be taken off easily when needed -particularly the babies’ coveralls- and keeping everyone clothed and warm in the meantime.

By the time B’Elanna gets in touch to tell him that she’s fixed the warp core he almost forgets to compliment her work over the horrifying thought that that means that he hasn’t had enough time to ask her about her progress once. 

“Thanks. You’re amazing.”

“Let me lay in a course away from this cursed planet and I’ll join you.”

He doesn’t tell her that he’d be _happy_ to do that. No, after what’s probably hours of fixing the warp core, laying in the course is a nice reward. Away from helping toddlers in the bathroom. And changing diapers. Although the sight of the Captain and her advisor sharing the same sandwich and drinking from the same glass of juice is oddly endearing. If they had kids like that he’d actually like having children with B’Elanna. But with their luck they’d probably end up with Seven and Tom like monsters who’re constant work. Really, how are they worse than _any_ of his little Maquis?

Never, ever praise anyone before the time’s up. Too early. 

Part of him recognizes that he deserves the lesson, but most of him just wants to grab the whole lot by the scruff of their necks and put them into the far too few corners of the room. The main problem, it turns out, is that Naomi’s fallen asleep. And who can blame her? He’s feeling exhausted, and Naomi and the Doctor have been trying to look after these kids for about four hours before the rendezvous. Unless the Doctor’s been exaggerating.

There is something oddly sweet about the way the Doctor actually takes the time to find a blanket to tuck up Naomi before he returns to the rest of their charges. As if that could somehow make up for them getting a little girl to help with a bunch of babies and toddlers for what might be a whole day by now. Asking the computer just how much time has passed seems to only make the whole thing worse, though.

He’s returned some order to the chaos by the time B’Elanna rejoins them to inform him that everything’s going according to plan elsewhere, at least. And he’s so relieved he could kiss her. But of course there’s more important things to do. Like...

... explain what the hell happened to a bunch of severely underdressed -not to say naked- people. 

Thankfully the crew’s had some practice in ignoring a lot of things by this point. So everyone gets dressed quietly and efficiently. Before they agree that maybe getting some sleep might be the best possible way to cope with the events. Any potential talks about what happened -and whether or not to put the adventure into their logs or not- can wait. 

 

“So if we ever have children you’ll be off to work and I’ll be stuck raising them?” 

“If I’d left you to it earlier we would’ve made it out of that situation a lot quicker.”

“Are you saying I should be the one to have the children, too, because your job’s more important?” 

He’s mildly concerned by her grin. But once they make it back to their quarters, taking off the unessential layers of uniform and snuggling into bed becomes the most important thing. Even if all it leads to is sleep.


End file.
